


the perfection of the whole

by Spikedluv



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Child Death, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Remix, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don had a tough case that Charlie couldn’t help him with, but he can be there for him when it’s over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the perfection of the whole

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Perfect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763642) by [Spikedluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv). 



> This story is a remix of my first Numb3rs fic, [Perfect](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4763642), and is being posted 10 years to the date after that story was posted.
> 
> Spoilers for the first season, mainly, though since it’s a remix some minor bits might have snuck in from later seasons.
> 
> Warning: Brief mention of the death of a child (Don's case), but nothing graphic.
> 
> Written: September 9, 2015.
> 
> See end notes for more blather about the remix process and the 10th Anniversary of Numb3rs.

A leaf, a drop, a crystal, a moment of time is related to the whole, and partakes of the perfection of the whole.  
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ([Source](http://www.emersoncentral.com/discipline.html))

Don sat slumped on the glider on the back porch. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low as he stared unseeing at the porch floor. He didn’t notice the chipping paint, or his loose shoe lace, or the banged up knuckles from taking out some of his frustration over the case on the bathroom wall at the office. All he could see was the tiny, pale, limp form they’d dug up that morning. Four-year old Zoe Tibbs, still in death in a way she hadn’t been even in the photographs that covered the walls and nearly every flat surface of her parents’ house.

Don shook his head as if he could clear it of the image, and then straightened when he heard the creak of the screen door opening. He hated to show weakness, even to Charlie, who knew him better than anyone, but he moved slowly, as if he was swimming in honey, feeling each one of his years like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Charlie said, sounding tentative, as if he thought he might be intruding.

“Hey, buddy.” Don tried to give Charlie a smile, but he wasn’t sure he managed to pull it off.

“I wasn’t sure which you needed more.” Charlie held a steaming mug of Dad’s soup in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

Alcohol was never a good idea after a case like this, but sometimes it was the only thing that helped ease the horror and shut down the brain. Don held out his hands and Charlie handed over both bottle and mug before easing himself gently onto the glider beside him.

“Thanks,” Don said.

“You’re welcome,” Charlie said, his eyes looking anywhere but at the place he desperately wanted to look – Don.

The beer bottle was a welcome cold in his hand, condensation already beading on the side from the night heat. Don took a long swallow, and then placed the bottle between his knees so he could attempt to eat the soup. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the first spoonful of beef and tomato and vegetables hit his tongue. Don ate without speaking until the mug was empty, and then he stared at it as if he couldn’t believe he’d been the one to finish it.

Don leaned down to set the mug on the floor and took another long pull off the beer bottle before leaning back in the glider, his shoulder brushing Charlie’s, his free hand landing on top of Charlie’s. Charlie pushed off with his toes and set the glider into an easy swinging motion. Don drank his beer and played with Charlie’s fingers while they sat in silence, staring out at the backyard and the stars visible in the night sky.

“I really needed this,” Don said. He hoped that Charlie knew he was talking about more than the soup and beer, though he’d needed them more than he’d realized. “How’d you know I was out here?”

“Terri called,” Charlie said. “And then I saw the car in the driveway.”

Don nodded.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” Charlie asked.

Don gave Charlie a sheepish smile. “Thought I wanted to be alone.”

His subconscious must’ve known better, though, because he’d aimed the car for Pasadena and had been pulling into the driveway before he’d realized that he hadn’t gone to his own apartment. The house had looked quiet, though, so instead of making the drive all the way to his place, Don had walked around the outside of the house and hidden himself away on the back porch.

Charlie threaded his fingers through Don’s and continued the gentle rocking. He broke the silence only to say, “I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

Don didn’t reply. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. But he was glad to have Charlie’s quiet presence beside him. Don finished his beer and set the bottle on the floor beside the mug, then relaxed back into the glider, his head lolling to the side until it rested on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Where’s Dad?” Don asked quietly. He was loathe to disrupt the comfortable silence, but that was trumped by curiosity.

“Bowling,” Charlie said.

Surprise made Don raise his head to look at Charlie. “Bowling, really?”

Charlie grinned. “No. Tonight’s book club.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Don let his head drop back onto Charlie’s shoulder. Ignoring the watch on his own wrist, he asked, “What time is it?”

“Past ten,” Charlie said.

Don let silence envelope them once more. It was comfortable and safe, but Don knew it couldn’t last. “Did Terri tell you?” he asked.

Charlie hesitated. “Only that you arrested the father. And that it was hard on you.”

“Yeah,” Don said, as the reality of the case they’d just closed seeped into their bubble. “It was . . . tough.”

Don went tense just thinking about it. He wished he could get back to that relaxed few moments when he hadn’t been thinking about little girls buried in holes in the ground. Unable to sit still, he pushed himself up and away from Charlie, but didn’t release his hand.

“God, her own _father_!” Don ran his free hand through his hair in a frustrated move he’d already performed a dozen times over the last three days.

Charlie didn’t speak, and another time Don would’ve teased him about his uncommon show of patience, but there was no room inside Don for teasing right now, too filled up with the horror and frustration, the anger and disgust he’d been battling for most of the day.

“It was just so senseless!” he said. “I mean, most death is, but this.... She was so young. So much potential lost because she was crying and her father couldn’t get her to quiet down. He said....” Don squeezed Charlie’s hand. “He said that she just wouldn’t shut up, like that makes it okay for him to shake her until she’s dead. Christ.”

“How did you figure it out?” Charlie asked.

“Luck.” Don snorted and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dumb luck. Terri noticed mud in the father’s tires and David talked to someone at Tibbs’ office who said he hadn’t answered the phone Friday morning when they called. He said he’d unplugged the house phone so it wouldn’t wake Zoe up, but we dug deeper. Turns out his cousin owns a cabin north of here. We found her buried in the back.”

Charlie sat forward and pulled Don into his arms. Don let himself be held. Charlie didn’t speak, which Don appreciated, because any platitudes he shared now would only feel empty.

“Mrs. Tibbs?” Charlie said. “This has to be rough on her.”

“She had to be sedated when her husband confessed. Damn it, Charlie!” Don said with a burst of anger, mostly at himself this time. “I should be used to this!”

“No,” Charlie said immediately. “You should never get used to this. And you won’t. You care too much.”

“Yeah?” Don said, surprising himself with the resentment he still felt at Charlie’s comment. “I thought I was _detached_.”

Charlie winced. “Don, I was upset when I said that and I-I shouldn’t have. I hope you know I don’t really believe it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Don said, still feeling peevish. He pulled away and leaned back against the glider.

“It does matter.” Charlie leaned back with him, not allowing Don to put distance between them. He placed his hand on Don’s chest, right over his heart.

Don became conscious of the thud of his own heart beating against the palm of Charlie’s hand. When he spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “You always say numbers don’t lie.”

“They don’t,” Charlie said with certainty.

“Then how come when I do the addition on this one, two plus two equals five?”

Charlie didn’t hesitate before saying, “Because you’re missing a variable.”

Don frowned. “A variable. And how do you know when there’s a missing variable?”

“When it doesn’t add up.”

“That’s just circular reasoning, Charlie.” Don said, frustrated.

“No, it’s not, because you know that two plus two equals four, therefore, when you come up with five instead, you then know that there’s an unknown variable, X, in your equation.”

“In this case a father who can’t control himself and ends up killing his four-year old daughter,” Don said, defeated.

“Yeah.”

“So two plus two always equals four.”

“Yep. Except when it doesn’t.”

“Charlie!” Don said, exasperated.

Charlie ignored it and cupped Don’s chin, leaning in for a quick kiss. Don was feeling relaxed enough after their talk that he pulled Charlie close and kissed him back. Don missed these moments with Charlie, talking softly, as if they were the only two people in the world, sharing kisses, just _being_ , when he was buried in a case that Charlie wasn’t involved in. He pushed closer and deepened the kiss.

Inside the house, Don heard the front door open and close, and a moment later Dad call out, “Hey, where is everybody?”

Charlie pulled back, but didn’t let go of Don. “Dad’s home.”

Don didn’t call Charlie ‘Captain Obvious’ like he wanted to. He sighed, “Yeah.”

“Are you staying here tonight?” Charlie asked.

“No.” Don ran a possessive hand down Charlie’s side and squeezed his ass. It would’ve been nice to just stay right there and not have to move, to watch television with Charlie and Dad, to let them fill him in on the normal things they’d been doing, but he hadn’t been home in days. He needed to shower, and he wanted his own bed, and he probably needed to clean out the refrigerator. “I need to go to my apartment.”

Don felt Charlie shiver against him. “Good,” Charlie rasped.

After that, Don didn’t need to ask if Charlie was coming with him. Suddenly the thought of returning to his empty apartment and throwing out rotten food didn’t sound so bad, not if Charlie would be there to fill the emptiness and chase away the shadows that liked to hide in the corners of Don’s mind. “Need to pack a bag?” Don asked.

“No, I’ve got enough stuff at your place. I just need to get my laptop and notes for class.”

“Okay, let’s go see Dad.” Don stood and pulled Charlie up with him, then headed for the door.

“Don?” Charlie said, and Don turned back to look at him. “I know it’s hard for you to see right now, but you did good.”

Don stared hard at Charlie, wishing he could see in himself what Charlie saw, though glad that at least someone did, then nodded. “Thanks.”

Dad stepped out onto the porch. “Hey, there you are. Didn’t you hear me call?”

“We were just coming in, Dad,” Don said. “How was book club?”

“Fine, fine. Want some coffee?”

“No, I’ll never get to sleep. But I heard there might be some chocolate cake around here somewhere.”

“If Charlie didn’t eat it all,” Dad said as he led the way back into the house.

“Hey!” Charlie said.

Don turned back and grinned at him. “Hey, Charlie. What do we add up to?”

“Six,” Charlie said, without hesitation.

Don’s grin widened. “A perfect number, huh?”

Charlie grinned back.

Don couldn’t forget that a young child had lost her life, but he felt a little bit lighter when he followed Dad into the house, Charlie close at his back. Dad was already setting the cake plate on the table when Don stepped into the dining room.

“I just need to get plates and forks,” Dad said, and returned to the kitchen.

Don caught the swinging door and trailed after his dad so he could grab the milk. Charlie appeared a moment later with the empty beer bottle and mug Don had left sitting on the porch.

“Oh, sorry, Chuck,” Don said.

Charlie glared at him at the hated nickname, but didn’t say anything as he rinsed out the bottle for the return bucket and ran some water into the mug. Don got down three glasses from the cupboard and they all trooped back into the dining room.

Don poured milk while Dad sliced the cake. “Jeeze, Dad,” Don said when he saw the size of the piece on his plate.

“You telling me you can’t finish that?” Dad said.

“No, unfortunately,” Don said. “I’m saying I’ll have to double up on the gym for the next week if I do.”

“You could stand to put on a few pounds,” Dad said. “You look like you haven’t been eating.”

“I’ve been eating,” Don protested.

“Only because Charlie fed you,” Dad said. “Sit down and eat your cake and drink your milk.”

Don sat, then wondered why he’d responded so quickly to the command in his Dad’s voice. He glanced at Charlie, who was hiding a grin behind his glass.

“You, too,” Dad told Charlie.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “I’m already sitting!”

Don stuck out his tongue at Charlie.

“Don’t make me ground you boys,” Dad said.

Both Don and Charlie burst out laughing at that.

Don ate his slice of cake until he couldn’t eat any more, then pushed the plate back and leaned back in his chair to take the pressure off his waistband. Dad had already finished his much smaller serving, and Don could sense that he’d been waiting to speak. Don nodded to give his dad the go-ahead.

“I heard on the news that you made an arrest in your case,” Dad said gently.

Don sighed. He’d known it was something like that when his dad held his tongue until Don was finished eating. “Yeah.” Don waited for the surge of angry frustration that usually accompanied thoughts about the case, but it didn’t come. He just felt tired.

“It’s hard,” Dad said. “A case like that.”

“Yeah,” Don agreed. He loved his job, but sometimes he really hated seeing the worst that humanity had to offer on a daily basis.

Don stood abruptly and reached for the empty plates. “I’ll just get rid of these.”

Don dumped the crumbs into the garbage, then rinsed the plates and the mug already sitting in the sink, and loaded them into the dishwasher. He heard the murmur of voices as he approached the door, and paused a moment to listen.

“. . . I asked, he said he needed to go to his apartment,” Charlie said.

“He shouldn’t be alone,” Dad insisted.

“He won’t be,” Charlie said. “I’m going with him.”

They both fell silent and gave Don matching guilty looks when he pushed through the door.

“Thanks for the cake, Dad, and the soup, I guess. I’m gonna head out now, try to get some sleep before I have to go in tomorrow.”

“Don’t you even get a day off?” Dad said.

Charlie leapt up. “Let me just get my school bag.”

Don sat back down at the table because he knew that might take a while. “I’m fine,” he told his dad.

Dad squeezed Don’s arm. “You’re not fine, not yet, but you will be.”

Don nodded. He wanted to ask, when? Or, what happens when I can’t bounce back from a case like this one anymore? But that would be the opposite of reassuring his dad that he was fine. Thankfully, Charlie was ready quickly. Don clasped the hand that his dad had left on his arm, and then stood. “Want me to take care of the glasses?” he asked.

“No, I’ll get them, you need to get home and get some rest. Though I appreciate you asking,” Dad added with a side-eye at Charlie.

“What?” Charlie said.

“Okay,” Don said. “I’ll see you, Dad.”

“This weekend,” Dad said firmly.

Dad thought that being with his family would save Don, and Don didn’t want to argue; didn’t want him to be wrong. “Yeah, okay,” Don said.

Don walked out to the SUV, tuning out Dad’s and Charlie’s voices. He started the engine and backed out of the driveway as soon as Charlie had buckled himself in. This late there was little traffic on the side streets and the inside of the cab was as silent as the night surrounding them.

“You said I shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Don finally said, trying to voice what had been bothering him since he overheard Dad and Charlie’s conversation.

Charlie looked at him as if Don had surprised him out of his thoughts. “Technically, Dad said that. I just happen to agree with him.”

“Why do you agree with him?” Don said, exasperated by Charlie’s hairsplitting.

“Because it’s true,” Charlie said. “And because it was either that, or tell him I was coming over because you needed to be the little spoon tonight.”

“I do not . . . ,” Don began, then tapered off. He was totally going to be the little spoon tonight. At least until Charlie started putting off heat like a furnace and Don had to have some space so he didn’t melt into the sheets.

They both let it drop and silence enveloped them once more. Which Don appreciated, because he wasn’t one to talk about his feelings on a good day, and today had been the furthest thing from good. The only bright points in the past few days had been Charlie-related. Don glanced over at Charlie as he remembered Charlie bringing him food and a change of clothes, Charlie helping him get to sleep, Charlie’s offering of soup and beer.

Charlie’s head rested against the back of the seat and his face was turned toward the window. Don couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or just thinking, and suddenly the silence felt heavy, oppressive. “Hey, Charlie,” Don said softly.

Charlie’s head turned quickly, worried eyes looked at Don. “What?”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Don said.

Charlie smiled. “I know,” he said, but it was shy, pleased, as if he’d only needed to hear Don admit to it.

Don placed his arm on the console, hand turned palm up. Charlie glanced at it, then slipped his hand into Don’s. The silence that fell this time was less weighted with things left unspoken.

Don found a parking spot at his apartment and he and Charlie walked to the elevator in silence. They didn’t run into anyone. Don unlocked the door and held it for Charlie who went inside and turned on some lights so they could see. Charlie dropped his bag on the chair in the living room and went to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth.

“All yours,” Charlie said when he came back into the bedroom to Don removing his rumpled suit so he could take a shower.

It was familiar and comfortable, this routine they had developed when they shared a space. Don knew that Charlie would turn down the sheets while he showered, he’d set the phone Don had dropped on the end of the mattress into the charger, and then mess around on his own phone until Don came out, probably texting fellow mathematicians on the other side of the world. (Though one time Don had caught him playing Scrabble, which Charlie denied to this day was so he could beat Dad the next time they played – Charlie was nothing if not competitive, and a sore loser.)

Don put his suit in the bag for the dry cleaner, then detoured to where Charlie sat on the edge of the bed struggling with a knot in his sneaker laces and pressed a kiss to the top of Charlie’s head. Charlie gave Don a questioning look, but Don just pulled one of Charlie’s curls before heading for the bathroom.

Don was too tired to linger in the shower. Even though he’d been quick, Charlie was already propped against the pillows, staring at his phone with a grim expression on his face when he emerged. Don glanced at the night stand where his phone sat in the charger and smiled to himself.

“What’s wrong?” Don asked Charlie. “Can’t find the last word on your Word Search?”

Charlie turned his glare onto Don for a second before returning it to his phone’s screen and tapping madly on the touch keyboard. “No,” Charlie said as he typed. “I made the mistake of going to the CalSci Math Forum, and now I have to explain to . . .” Charlie paused to read the name. “. . . einstein1972, yeah right, I don’t think so, just how wrong, wrong . . . wrong he is.”

“Oh, dear,” Don said. “Someone was wrong on the internet?”

“Yes,” Charlie said, completely missing Don’s sarcasm.

Don pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and then plucked the phone out of Charlie’s hands.

“What . . . no . . . Don!”

Don fended Charlie off with one hand while he silenced the phone and then set it in the charger. (Charlie had three of them, one at Don’s, one at home, and one at CalSci, because he barely remembered to charge his phone, much less carry the charger with him.)

“You can set Einstein straight tomorrow,” Don said. “Tonight you’re spooning.”

Charlie immediately stopped struggling for the phone and grinned at Don. He rearranged the pillows and moved to the center of the bed as Don walked around to the other side. Don turned out the light and slipped under the covers, moving back so that Charlie could slip an arm around him.

Don sighed. Having Charlie hold him like this, be the person Don could rely on to have his back, it felt right.

“Is this alright?” Charlie whispered.

“Yeah, Charlie,” Don said. At some point during the night they’d separate, roll to their own side of the bed, but right now . . . “It’s perfect.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> A few weeks ago I realized that this year marks the 10th Anniversary of the premiere of Numb3rs, and I wanted to do something about it. I created a [Numb3rs 10th Anniversary Fandom Appreciation & Rec Meme](http://numb3rsfanrecs.livejournal.com/110287.html) on LJ (which is still open if you want to participate), but these boys have never left my mind, even though I moved on to other fandoms, and so I wanted to do something more, like maybe write a fic. I further realized that the first fic I had written in the N3 fandom had been posted on 9/9/05, and that the 10th year anniversary of that posting was coming up, and so the idea to write a remix of my own story was born.
> 
> I immediately started freaking out because _I had never done a remix before_! So I did some research. I decided to pull out one scene, write it from a different pov, and expand on it a bit. I really enjoyed writing this scene from Don’s pov this time, and getting into this head and figuring out what he was thinking during the scene. The one thing I had the most difficulty with was my decision to leave all the dialogue exactly the same; there were so many times I _just wanted to tweak something_!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy my first attempt at a remix. Happy Anniversary, N3!


End file.
